'He does not possess wealth," said Benjamin Franklin, "it possesses him." London is a tax haven, and billionaires obediently gather, although they move around, from the Monaco Grand Prix to the Venice Biennale to Wimbledon. To their eyes, I suspect the view never changes. (Perhaps it is time to stop saying the rich are not like us. Who does not go where he is welcome?) Those earning more than £1m have doubled in the last two years; everywhere, the 1% pull away into their palaces of delusion. Anger is muted, and badly signposted, predictably towards those of a different colour, or religion.

Statistics and art aside, where is their sense of responsibility to their fellows? Why do they lunge for tax havens, when the wages of their greed is explicit in the soup kitchens on the Strand? I saw a blind man last year, whistling for pennies at St Paul's underground station – in a ghastly metaphor, the passing tax lawyers could see him, but he could not see them. Put simply, it does not exist. This is not primarily wickedness, although the link between great wealth and psychopathy is established. It is collusion.

Everywhere the rich float, economies sprout to service them – estate agents, restaurants, hotels, luxury goods magazines, publicists, shops, fireplace log stylists, and the sort of people who invent black toilet paper. If perusing the nonsense the wealthy buy amuses you, there is a world of fascination and ennui. As I write, the FT Business of Luxury summit takes place in Vienna, imagining better ways to push luxury to those already sated. The most sinister session is the final one, called Philanthropic Power – "How important is an overt display of values to creating community? How does a brand communicate their involvement without seeming to exploit it? How does it relate to the brand's for-profit and political activities?" Philanthropy, you see, is a rich man's tax. You get thanked for philanthropy, less so for tax. Oxfam said last month that income hidden in tax havens could obliterate extreme global poverty twice over. It could, but it won't.

The purpose of this economy is to remind the wealthy not so much that they are wealthy – that is merely a symptom of their moral superiority – but that they are good. They are told this in the shops on Bond Street, in the pages of conservative newspapers and in the reports of the thinktanks they secretly fund. Opposition, meanwhile, is an army of straw men – "Red Ed" Miliband, for instance, although the tax changes he suggests are mild and nothing to do with revolutionary socialism. How much damage can a rhyme do, if repeated enough? Who cares for the politics, if one good man looks slightly like a Panda? Convincing the wealthy that the problem lies with the poor, not the face in the glass, is one of the few swelling economies of the age.

Are they happy? I don't care, but I am interested. I have never met a happy rich man, still less a happy rich child; the only rich child I know writes short stories about loneliness. They live paranoiacally behind their walls where the view never changes. And they will need those walls. That inequality breeds instability seems to have evaded the plutocracy, having little to do with log styling; perhaps they do not read history, being too busy reading How to Spend It?

So consider, as the textbook pages turn, the rise of extremist political parties, social unrest and a perceived need for greater policing – see Iain Duncan Smith's desire to cut "welfare" to pay for more policeman, like a man stabbing flesh to push bandage sales up. Consider a legislature either in hock to wealth (sometimes literally, as the Sunday Times has revealed ) or paralysed by a status quo they either worship, or feel powerless to challenge. Consider frightened immigrants, food banks, failing hospitals and child poverty that rises in tandem with Prada sales.

What to do? Hide in idiotic solutions? Some think the minimum wage should be abolished, and that the parents of poorly graded children should have their benefits cut. Some think the vote should be denied to benefit claimants. What are the lessons of history when inequality howls? Why even ask, when money is so pretty and plenty, and summer is here?